


The Lone Knight and The Demonic Angel

by azwritesfantasy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Xaela (Final Fantasy XIV), M/M, Voidsent (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azwritesfantasy/pseuds/azwritesfantasy
Summary: This is a story about how fighting for the greater good isn't always the best choice.Azrael is just a regular knight, fighting for his country and dedicating his life to a cause like everyone else. He wasn't lucky enough to become a Warrior of Light, and he resents it, but he feels that's just how life is. But one tragic night, when all is lost, a demonic Voidsent descends and takes an interest in him. He gives him a choice, to continue fighting for others, or to finally live for himself.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original characters in a loosely based Final Fantasy XIV scenario/setting with borrowed terminology. Does not follow most of the lore down to the dot. Characters are not Warriors of Light. 
> 
> First time poster. Comments and critiques welcome!

### azrael

“ _Voidsent!_ ”

The shrill scream sent Azrael nearly tumbling out of his makeshift bed. The other warriors in the candlelit tent were already ahead of him, strapping on their armors, grabbing their weapons, and rushing out into the darkness of the night. Heart pounding and fighting the remnants of sleep, Azrael scrambled out of his bed and to his armory to prepare himself for battle. He steeled his panic as he carefully buckled the straps of his chest plate into place but his mind was racing with thoughts of terror.

Voidsent? At a place like this? Azrael hoped that this was some sort of drill or sick joke. He could understand bandits but Voidsent of all things. The monsters that prowled the darkness, driven by their hunger for only one thing, Aether. Crazed enough to kill for it as if it was the elixir of Paradise. As he sheathed his sword at his hip and shield on his arm, he heard an awful symphony of screams of agony that rang throughout the now empty tent. Forsaking the helmet, he unsheathed his sword and shouldered his way outside.

And walked right into a horrific sight.

Nearly dropping his sword, he stood shaking, as he took in the sight before him. His armored comrades, all struck down and lined with the lacerations of weapons. Blood stained the ground around him, so much that it was as if the plains the camp was settled on had been crimson to begin with. What added on to the scene of horror, was the bone-chilling silence that resounded through out the area. Had everyone been killed all at once? In such a short time? Not a person or enemy was in sight. Azrael was terrified.

Was this even a void sent? Or even from this world?

The only lights now were the light of the torches nearby, revealing the mutilated men, and the grey light of the moon. Azrael froze where he stood, afraid to make a single sound, as his gaze darted around, looking for something… anything, but finding nothing. The knight was all by himself now.

After seconds that felt like minutes, Azrael felt something soft touch the back of his neck. The touch sent a chill down his spine like a bucket of cold water. Turning around, he found no one there, but what had fallen off him, and was now floating as carefree in the wind was…

A feather.

Azrael grasped the light remnant, examining it. It was a beautiful mix of jet black and aurous gold, shimmery enough to reflect the moonlight of the sky, and soft enough as the silk of fur. Azrael had never heard of a feathery voidsent before. As Azrael kept his eyes on it, something else had caught his attention on the bloodied ground.

More feathers.

Azrael had been in too much of a panicked stupor to notice that dark feathers of the same appearance lined the scene of the massacre. Upon the withered ground and upon the bodies of his fallen comrades, they were all there. Feathers of the same type, as if they were the signature of the carnage that unfolded.

So that means that the cause of it all, was not far from here.

The silence that permeated the still night was finally broken. A loud noise. If Azrael could describe it, it could be compared to the closing of a heavy curtain… or the donning of a large coat.

The knight tried listening more intently, and soon the sound became more apparent to him: a slow yet loud flapping noise.

Coming from right above him.

Without thinking, Azrael looked up at the night sky. For a moment, all he could see were the stars and constellations of many colors, beautiful as never but nary one fitting for a night such as this. It was only until moments later until he saw it. No…

_Him._

Descending now towards him was a man. At first, the knight was only able to see him as a shadow against the darkness of the night, but as he came closer, the moonlight partly revealed more of him. He could now see that large and dark horns adorned his head, the dark coat he wore--silk as a robe and flailing in the wind, revealing his muscled chest—and most of all, his great wings behind him. They had shone now, shimmering in exquisite shades of black and gold and radiating a terrifying brilliance as they moved back and forth slowly, becoming larger as the man continued his descent to the earth.

Azrael, frozen with fear yet mesmerized by the beauty, finally regained control of himself and staggered backwards, his mouth agape but no sounds willing to come. In his fright, the knight accidentally stumbled over the body of a comrade, and fell to the ground, his sword falling to his side. As he reached for the blade, the only object he could seek comfort in now, the man finally landed. A light breeze flowing throughout the area as his wings stilled.

The winged man started walking towards him now.

A surge of panic welled up in Azrael as he grabbed his sword and stood, assuming a rushed defensive stance and pointing his sword at the man. Azrael spoke, hoping to retain the integrity in his voice.

“Do not come any closer!” The command ripped out into the night, loud enough for the man to hear. Yet, the man did not stop walking. Azrael backed up, terrified by the approaching man. Forming an idea, Azrael took a few steps back, towards the tent, hoping to lure him towards the light of the fire. The knight hoped the man was at least averse to light.

Yet, the winged man did not hesitate, as he stepped into the light of the torches, and Azrael was able to see his face for the first time.

The man was strikingly beautiful. His skin a darkened shade as Azrael’s, his horns glistening as if they were made of gold, his hair smooth as silk and colors of black and brown, extricate and detailed silver designs and symbols lining his long and dark, open coat, and finally, his chest tanned, muscled, and firm. That a man so beautiful could be responsible for such carnage, terrified Azrael to his core.

The winged man stopped in his tracks and smirked now; his smile heinous as a devils yet equally as charming. Azrael scrambled for words, wanting to say something while the man had not decided to make an example out of him, as like his comrades.

“Speak your name, fiend! _Or I swear I will cut you down where you stand!_ ” Azrael’s voice cracked with panic, but he kept his eyes on the man, not daring to look away. Not that he could either. Finally, the winged man spoke.

“That so?” The winged man gave a short laugh. Despite the menacing words, the man’s voice was deep and smooth. Had the man not been so terrifying, his voice would have been almost… comforting. “Shouldn’t you at least beg for your life before I take it?”

There it was, that beautiful deadliness to the man’s smirk as he spoke the damning words. Azrael had actually considered kneeling prostrate and begging for his life. He’d seen how it ended for his comrades firsthand, and he wished he could forget it. Yet, he refused to move, keeping his hardened gaze on the man before him, and never letting his sword down.

The winged man’s eyes then changed, seeing that his words had no effect on the knight. It had almost looked like… fascination. The man started closing the distance between the two once more, yet Azrael still did not move. As the man inched closer, so did his aura of intimidation. The knight’s mind fell into a fight or flight state right then. He could not run. The man would simply chase him down.

If he were to die, he may as well go down fighting, rather than escape like a coward. Closing the distance himself, Azrael rushed forward, shield arm in front, and thrusted his sword at the man’s face. Before his sword could reach the man’s face, it… dissipated. The man disappeared in a cloud of darkness, as if he were a mirage. Azrael let out a breath, not quite believing his eyes. Magic. It had to be. Just what was this man capable of?

Azrael backed away, looking around for him now.

“Well, aren’t you a brave one?” The voice was warm and… _right in his ear._

Azrael swiveled around, backing away from the man that had appeared at his side in an instant. As the knight created distance between the two, the man continued.

“Your little friends had all ran for their lives the moment they saw me, and yet, you stand before me, not backing down once. Such loyalty.”

The man gave a mischievous smirk, folding his arms and staring the knight down.

“You’ve impressed me, so I guess I’ll give you my name.” He tilted his head at the knight, as if introducing himself in a casual conversation. “It’s Bael.”

The name was an uncommon and exotic one, truly akin to that of a demon’s, which wouldn’t be a far cry from the man standing before him.

“As you’ve seen,” Bael gestured to the fallen men, “this is where fighting me will get you. Knowing that, you still want to try and stop me?”

Azrael stood his ground. “That is right. You’re a filthy voidsent that murdered my comrades for your sickening thirst. That is something,” he readied himself, pointing his sword with newfound strength at the man. “ _that I cannot overlook!_ ”

Bael gave a snort. “You would end your life for men you don’t even share blood with?”

“They were innocent people!” The knight shook with anger. “Is your life truly so important that you would desecrate such lives like this?”

Bael took a step closer, his wings curling and unfurling. “Innocents? Then, tell me, what is the difference between the men I killed… and the men you kill?” Bael began to circle the knight, and the other followed his movements in opposite, “The people you see as enemies in battle, could be seen as innocent’s in other’s eyes.” He stopped, giving Azrael a look of mock question. “You’d talk about killing innocents to me, when you would kill other innocents in the name of your justice? What irony.”

Azrael huffed a breath, tired of these games. “Speak plainly.”

Bael smirked, “I’m saying that your wills, your causes, your ambitions, your justice… is all but a fallacy built to keep the cycle of war well-fed. You all claim to be the greater good, yet I see no difference.”

Azrael grunted. “Do you seek to lecture me, after murdering these men for no reason?”

“You saying killing someone for a reason is justified, then?” Bael winked at him.

The knight shook his head, conflicted with a mix of speechlessness and frustration. “This is a waste of time. If you wish to strike me down,” his voice rose to a yell, “then do it already!” The anger in his voice resounded for miles across the landscape. Bael showed no reaction, only kept up that smirk of his.

“What’s being wasted is you, little knight.” The man gave a direct look to Azrael. “You fight for causes that forsake you. The Scions of the Seventh dawn cannot save everyone. The Warrior of Light cannot save everyone. Even, Haedelyn cannot save everyone.

“ _She certainly couldn’t save these men._ ” Bael chuckled.

Anger surged within Azrael as he charged the man now, no longer caring about the danger to his life. Once he reached him, he struck at him, as if he was throwing a left hook, aiming to decapitate him, but as he did so, he felt a resistance, as if he hit an immovable object.

Azrael looked up now to see that Bael had caught his blade in an iron grip, nary a scratch on him. The knight was stupefied in disbelief. He hadn’t even seen the man’s hands move. Just what kind of man was he?

“None of this ‘greater good’ you fight for will be able to save you, but I can.”

Before the knight could react, Bael leaned in towards the knight, to the point where the both were face to face, and the knight could feel the man’s breath on his face. He spoke.

“Abandon your oaths to a goddess that will never look your way and swear them to a god that will.” Bael gripped his hand more gently now. “If you swear to serve me, I will never forsake you.” He smiled. Azrael noticed how the man’s tone had changed. The man had been explicitly blunt earlier, but now he was speaking more elongated. Was the man truly trying to coerce him now?

“Do you not wish to surrender to me, Azrael?” Fright welled within the knight when Bael had spoken his name without even knowing it. As if to soothe his panic, Bael lightly touched the knight’s face. It was a comforting touch, one that the knight could easily surrender to, and maybe, just maybe, this awful night would be a distant memory.

The knight pondered this. Should he just give in?

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of such thoughts. No, what was he thinking?

For some reason, he felt his decision-making weaken in this moment. Something strange about Bael had been affecting Azrael’s mind with his closeness. Was it some sort of charm?

The more Bael stayed close, the more Azrael contemplated doing just as he asked.

But… he just couldn’t.

Azrael was sworn to fight for good. He couldn’t give in to the honeyed words of a demon. He just couldn’t.

Why… couldn’t he, exactly?

Just what would be waiting for him if he continued this journey? He thought of the men that had been slaughtered tonight. No divine intervention had come to save them. Azrael had to admit that Bael was right. He wasn’t even the Warrior of Light. What did he even owe this world? What would his actions even do that would change anything when we had the Warrior of Light? He was only a soldier compared to someone chosen by the Goddess herself.

Thoughts that Azrael would have never spoken filled his head now. The more the man gazed at him, the more the dark thoughts seem to pour like water through a broken dam.

Peace on Eorzea would never depend on the acts of a soldier like him. It depends on the Warrior of Light alone. Truth be told, he had always envied how the goddess chose someone like that as the person to carry out her bidding. Azrael longed for power such as they were given, and Bael seemed to be the key to that.

Azrael finally looked Bael in the eyes and spoke his answer.

“I give myself to you, Bael.”

Bael’s hand curled around his chin as he gave the knight a smile. “Excellent, little knight. I knew I saw potential in you.” The demon then inched in closer and stole his lips for a moment. Azrael surrendered to him, feeling no reason to fight back. Not a moment later, Bael broke the kiss. It had almost seemed like a congratulatory one.

Something then happened. Fatigue began to build up within Azrael. He soon found it difficult to keep his eyes open. The more he tried to fight it, the more the lull of sleep tightened its grip on him. Kneeling now, he felt his body stagger with unsteadiness and his sight begin to darken.

“Sleep now, little knight.” Bael’s comforting voice soothed him. Azrael finally closed his eyes. “And when you awake, you shall be granted power far greater than the Goddess could ever give you.

***


	2. Chapter 2

### bael

Bael shouldered his way through the heavy grand doors and into the frigid and empty cathedral, the knight asleep in his arms. The cathedral had originally been a small place of worship for Haedelyn. The village it resided in had been involved in a nearby conflict with enemy forces and was evacuated, to the point where there was nothing left. Bael had decided to make use of the barren place of worship ever since he'd become a Voidsent. Two men at the altar, who were leaning against a nearby faded pillar, snapped to attention at the motion. They took a defensive stance at first, but relaxed once they realized it was Bael. They sauntered over, eyeing the knight in Bael’s hands.

“What do we have here? Is he the prey for tonight?” The deep voice of a tanned Xaela spoke. The stained-glass window reflected moonlight into the room and revealed the man as he got closer. His hair was smooth and raven colored, his face striking and handsome with rigid features, and shirtless, the muscles in his chest and arms showing as he walked over. Once he got a better look at the knight in Bael’s arms, he gave a smirk. “I’d love to suck him dry but,” he reached a hand, tracing it across the red highlights of Azrael’s hair, down to the stubble of his face, “he’s too pretty to kill.”

Bael pushed past him, pulling Azrael away, “We’re not killing him, Khashi. We’re keeping him.”

Right after walking past Khashi, appeared another man. Smaller in height yet just as fit in bulk. Dark eyes and blunt features, and a smile of mischief and charm that could take hold of any man. “Then, is he going to be our pet? We are short on Aether lately, but I figured you not the type.” He gave a smirk, giving a lustful gaze to the unconscious knight, “Though I’m not complaining. He’s adorable.”

Bael shook his head. “No, Guyug. He’s the new one. Found him when I went feeding today.”

“New one?” Khashi looked over Bael’s shoulder. “Thought you were against having more of us.”

Bael looked down at his knight and eyed him. “He left an impression on me. He’s a brave one, and loyal. We need more of people like him.” Bael continued towards the altar. “Besides,” he looked over his shoulder at the two. “I grow tired of watching you two defile each other like beasts.”

As if on cue, Khashi snaked behind Guyug and smacked him on his ass. Guyug jumped and let out a yelp. Embarrassed, Guyug playfully pushed at Khashi as he leaned in, laying kisses on his neck.

Bael gave a sigh. An annoyed one, and yet, there was a bit of sorrow there. Times like this, he wished he had a lover to dote upon, but he was a leader first, and a Voidsent. He could not afford such luxuries. He lacked the time, and the energy.

Bael set down the knight upon the altar. The knight had not stirred once since Bael used a sleeping spell on him. Azrael’s resolve had stood firm until the moment Bael used his charm to sway him. Bael had to give him points for resisting it for so long.

Khashi and Guyug were right behind him, looking the knight up and down. Khashi licked his lips. “If we’re turning him, are we doing the bonding ritual? I’d love to get a taste of that—” Khashi had moved but he was stopped by an arm from Bael.

“We’re not doing that one. Wouldn’t be right.” Bael shook his head.

Khashi put up his hands in a playful gesture. “Only joking.”

“We’ll do the memory ritual.”

Khashi heaved a sigh. “Of all of the rituals you could have done, you picked the most boring one?” The man gave him a knowing look. “Come on, don’t think I don’t know how your sleep spells work.” Khashi gently elbowed Bael, “You kissed him, didn’t you?”

Bael didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t get any ideas, it didn’t mean anything.”

Khashi continued. “Can’t blame you. I wouldn’t have been able to resist that too. Probably would have done more than a kiss, but that’s you.”

Bael gave him a dark glare and was about to respond when Azrael began to shift in his sleep. The demon reached out a hand and onto his forehead, muttering an incantation to keep him sleeping in peace.

“Leave me be. I need to begin the ritual.”

Khashi didn’t need to be told twice. Walking over to Guyug, he snaked a hand around his waist and took him into a long kiss. “Let’s go and practice the bonding ritual.” He smirked.

Guyug gave a wink to Bael, “You’re welcome to join us anytime, you know.”

Bael waved a hand at them, distracted.

Once alone, Bael raised his hand in the air and spoke unintelligible incantations in a deep voice. Wisps of dark orbs appeared in thin air and began to circle the area. An audible thrumming resounded from the floor and steadily grew louder. Bael grabbed a handful of his dark wings from behind and ripped out feathers. Gritting his teeth and managing minimal flinching, he held his fist in the air and sprinkled the feathers atop Azrael. He then knelt next to the altar and took hold of Azrael’s hand. He gripped it tightly, continuing the incantation. Azrael, even now, lay still.

He then placed the After a few passing moments, Bael finished his incantation, staring right at Azrael. The black orbs that had been circling them in the air, now lowered to circle Azrael and grew closer.

At last, they moved to him and passed right into him. Azrael let out a heavy breath. Bael then felt a surge of energy from where they held hands. It was happening. The demon closed his eyes and focused on that surge of energy, trying to capture it. He’d only done this ritual a small number of times. Failing it could lock Azrael’s potential of becoming Voidsent away, or worse.

Bael hung on, clinging to the mental remnants of Azrael, before he finally got a hold of him. Taking a relaxed breath, he let his consciousness slip, ready to enter. The memory ritual was one of the many Voidsent transformation rituals. This ritual dealt with connection through minds. In this manner, Bael would be able to communicate with Azrael through telepathy. It was insurance. For all Bael knew, Azrael may just reject the transformation altogether once he gets his bearings. Newly turned Voidsent are always at peak strength. There’s no telling what chaos Azrael may wreak if left unattended.

Bael continued down the path, hanging on to the essence of Azrael.

His end goal: Azrael’s darkest memory.

### azrael

“Sir, what do you mean the warriors are withdrawing?”

It had been a day Azrael wished he could forget. The sky was purple and blue with storms, the wind relentless and cold, the air frigid and barren of scene. Azrael stood armored, in front of a group of curious villagers. He had been deigned the responsibility of explaining why the warriors would be withdrawing from their village, Mana.

Azrael sighed. “My apologies. We are withdrawing to Ul’Dah to assist with security for the feast with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

The man who had spoken, was an aging man, silver lining his hair and face and frailty evident in his body, pressed the knight again. “B-but, if you leave, the cult will surely come for us again!”

For several months, a dark cult had emerged in the unseen depths of Eorzea, and as a way of gaining followers, they used heinous methods of conversion that ranged from threats to deception, to thievery to destruction. What was precisely so frustrating about the cult was their inability to be pinned down. Their leads on the group had always become debunked sooner or later, and their nomadic behavior prevented the from being captured or followed. Yet, that wasn’t even the worst part.

The cult worshiped Voidsent.

So many innocents had been sacrificed just to please their crazed masters. Just thinking of it angered Azrael to no end.

Snapping back to reality, he placed a reassuring hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I’ll do everything I can to change their minds, but if not, you will have the Third Guard’s protection.”

Azrael bit his tongue. Who was he fooling? The Third Guard was aptly named that because it compromised of novices. Knights in training who were still doing missions and quests that were no less than community service. Even so, Azrael had to be strong show that he believed in it. He had to.

Something small then nudged its way through the villagers. Azrael then looked down to see a little girl, clutching a stuffed emerald carbuncle, running his way. She looked up at him unsteadily, as if almost nervous to meet his gaze.

“S-sir Knight…” she spoke, stuttering on her words, “please… don’t leave us. I’m… so scared that… they’ll take my mom and dad this time!” She looked on the verge of tears.

 _This time_ , the words pierced Azrael’s heart like a dagger. Azrael summoned up a bout of strength and knelt to the little girl.

He gave his best smile. “What’s your name?”

She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Ethera, sir.”

Azrael nodded then reached inside his armor, after a moment, he pulled out a necklace. It was a string necklace with a beautiful aetheryte hanging from its’ center. The necklace was given to him and said to be for good luck and swift progress, and so, Azrael wore it throughout most of his knighthood. He’d had nary an incident or a bad day in all of his knighthood because of it.

Azrael now placed the necklace around little Ethera’s neck. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the aetheryte in innocent wonder. The knight spoke, “You can have this, Ethera. It’s protected me all throughout my life and now it’s yours. If I’m not here, this will keep you and your family safe.” He smiled, “I swear it.”

“Thank you so much!” She cheered. Ethera then pulled Azrael into a hug. Azrael held her close.

Worry permeated his heart.

He’d been assigned to protect this village for months and had grown so close to the people therein. Mana had been a second home to him. He didn’t want to leave for a second, but soon, he would have to. All because of the Warrior of Light.

If only it weren’t for the Warrior of Light.

***

Later that day, Azrael went straight to the room of the commander and pushed through the door. Commander Leon. A stern man who followed the law and orders down to the period. When it came to making compromises, the man would not have it. Azrael knew that this would be fruitless, but he had to at least try. He thought of Ethera, and spoke.

“Sir, may I ask why we are recalling the First Guard from Mana to Ul’Dah?”

Commander Leon looked up from his paperwork, giving a glance to the knight. “For the security of the Warrior of Light and the Scions. Right now, his and their safety is of top priority.”

Azrael stepped forward. “That is so, yet, that leaves Mana at a great risk to be harmed by that vicious cult.”

The commander browsed through the stacks of papers on his desk. “The cult hasn’t appeared in weeks. We are sure they have probably moved on or we have scared them off. Either way, the Third Guard can handle any incident that needs handling in your stead.”

Azrael bit back blunt and brash protests and tried for a calmer tone. “With all due respect, the Third Guard is only proficient in non-combat-oriented quests. Should an incident occur, they will surely be overwhelmed, or worse.”

The commander looked up, giving a stern glare to the knight before him. “The matter will be handled. Mana is no longer your concern as of now. Right now, it is the safety of the Warrior of Light.” He waved a hand, dismissing him.

Azrael was not yet done.

“Sir. I have been informed numerous times of the heroic acts of the Warrior of Light, so believe me when I say that I have doubts of him requiring all of the security of our First Guard.” He couldn’t help but let the sarcasm slip in his words. He was becoming angrier by the minute.

The commander then stood up from his desk. Azrael gulped. There was truly no going back now.

“The Warrior of Light has done the world a great service. Surely, we should be grateful and repay him for his acts by giving him the best security, do you not think so?”

“Would it have been a mission of actual danger, yes. But we will simply be there to watch him indulge in royal dining. The only _danger_ I foresee is him choking on the very food he eats.” His words adopted a sharp tone, and the commander’s brow crashed down like thunder upon noticing it.

“It seems as if you aren’t appreciative of what he has done for us.” The commander walked closer, annoyance evident in his fce, “Need I remind you of how many wars have been averted, conflicts have been stopped, and lives have been saved because of our hero? And yet here you are, quarreling with me over our only way to repay him.”

“There are many ways to repay him, Sir! Many that include not diverting security to one of our weakest defended villages! Yes, he has saved many lives, but must we risk more just to show our appreciation?”

“My order is _final_. We are to be in Ul’Dah tomorrow and the Third Guard will handle matters in Mana. That is all.” The commander turned to face the window. Azrael let loose a heavy sigh.

“I understand, sir.” Azrael had tried his best, but it seems not even he could change the man’s mind. As the knight turned to leave, he distinctly heard the commander muttering.

“Insolent fool. He’s here because the Warrior of Light makes it so, and now he’s becoming ungrateful? Unbelievable.”

An anger rose in Azrael’s chest. He could hold his words back no longer. He turned to face the commander.

“ _Makes it so?_ ” He started. “Then tell me, commander. Do I get a payment of gil because the Warrior of Light makes it so? Am I a knight because the Warrior of Light makes it so?” Azrael took another step forward, too galvanized by his outburst to stop. “Did I work hard enough to be in the First Guard because the Warrior of Light makes it so?”

Azrael’s voice rose to a yell. “ _ **Did me and my family have to beg for money and starve all the time because the Warrior of Light makes it so?!**_ ”

The Commander stepped forward in three quick strides and struck Azrael across the face. The stinging pain nearly sent him reeling but he managed to keep upright.

“You _ingrate._ ” The Commander’s voice shook with anger. “His actions move the world, not yours. The moment you forget how you’re here and think you don’t need the protection of our heroes, then you become no better than the Garleans. _Villians_.”

Azrael, looking down at the floor, let out a sigh. Then, the knight gave the commander a hardened stare of withheld fury. He spoke.

“I don’t count on unreliable forces to keep my life in order. I make it so with my own hands. All my hard work, all my struggles, I owe nothing to the Warrior of Light. They were all my own victories.” He stepped forward.

“And if such thoughts make me a villain, then so be it.”

With that, Azrael stormed out of the office, not looking back once.

In the end, Azrael had been forced to attend Ul’Dah for guarding the Scions and the Warrior of Light at the feast. During the feast, he hardly paid attention to the faces he saw there. He only looked in the direction of the Warrior of Light and found his anger rising at the mere sight of him. Smiling and laughing, standing on his minimal world victories, as if nothing was wrong. Azrael hated the man with all his heart. Not able to take it anymore, he pretended to go to the restroom, but ended up sneaking out.

Azrael couldn’t help but feel a sense of displacement there the entire time. As if he didn’t belong. For how hard Azrael has worked all his life, sitting there playing guard to the Warrior of Light was something he hardly deserved. He deserved better.

After a while, he was on the road to Mana. As he walked, he thought of the many things that would welcome him once he got there. The cooking from the older women, the wrestling and sword-fighting matches from the men of the village, the laughter of the children as they ran around. Azrael would surely get in trouble for ditching his guard duty but right now, he could care less.

Even now, he could smell smoke. The women of the village were probably already cooking a big dinner. Azrael thought it a bit too early for them to start, but he was ready to eat whatever they made.

But as Azrael got closer, his smile faded.

It was a billow of smoke.

The village was on fire.

He took off towards the village. He raised his voice, calling out for any nearby warriors, but there were none. All of the ones assigned to deal with situations like this were at that _godsdamned_ feast.

Upon reaching the village, the sight tore his heart apart. The homes that had he had cherished, burning and charred. The people he’d grown to care for, lay still and dead. He nearly stumbled over himself and tried to see if someone… anyone was still alive. But not one was.

Tears streamed down his face as he looked upon the dead faces of his loved ones and found them all mangled and without breath.

He thought of one more person.

“ _Ethera!_ ” Azrael screamed, his voice horse and cracking with tears. “ _Where are you? Please! Come out!_ ”

He had hit something with his foot just then.

The knight looked down dreading the worst, and… it was. The stuffed emerald carbuncle was on the ground, covered in blood. And right next to it, the aetheryte necklace he’d given Ethera.

He fell to his knees, clutching the stuffed animal.

“ _ **NO! WHY!?**_ ”  
  
He screamed into the still sky, but none would answer him. No god nor human could give him an answer suitable enough for this carnage.

In his moment of grief, he saw a silhouette of someone walking off into the distance. He looked closer and saw that the person now walking away, had horns adorned all around him, and disappeared in a flurry of dark particles. Magic.

It could be no other perpetrator.

“Voidsent.” Azrael said through gritted teeth. “They would pay. They would pay.” He repeated those words over and over. Vengeance, the only thing keeping the knight from collapsing in his destroyed world.

### azrael

Azrael finally awoke. His heart pounding and his face wet with sweat and tears. He found himself on an icily cold altar, in a bed of feathers, shirtless. Looking around, he noticed that he had been taken to some abandoned church. Just how did he get here?

As he put his hand on the bed of feathers to push himself up, his back flared in pain. He grasped his back instinctively, wondering what caused the pain… and stopped.

Azrael felt that part of his back again, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him, but no explanation could avail him. There were now wings sprouting from his back. Silvery and pure white, they moved with every contraction Azrael made and curled and unfurled as if they were breathing.

Azrael gave a wild scream of horror as he stumbled away, falling off of the altar. He was shaking with terror. Had he truly become a Voidsent now? The creature that lusts for Aether and would kill others just to get it?

How could this happen to him? First, losing Mana now losing his humanity?

Who could have done this?

At that moment, Azrael recounted the events of last night, the memories playing in order. Before Azrael could even speak, someone else spoke for him.

“I see you’re finally awake.” That deep and alluring voice. Azrael stood up to see Bael, sitting on the other side of the altar, in an exquisite throne. Relaxed as can be.

How can he be so calm after what he did? Anger surged inside Azrael. Bael then stood up, that damned smirk of his aimed right at Azrael.

“I must say, I was shocked by the color of your wings, but they suit you well. Shows your innocence. It’s cute.”

Every word Bael was saying only served to drive his anger further. How could he be so brazen after ruining Azrael’s life? Azrael could hear no more. Noticing his holy sword, now glowing and celestial, off to the side against the pillar, he inched closer to it, keeping his eyes on Bael.

“Seems you still have the Light inside you. It’ll be my job to drive it all out of you. I’m sure you and me will have lots of fun toget—"  
  
Bael was cut off as Azrael surged forward, sword in hand and aimed his thrust right at the man’s head. Azrael could have sworn that a look of shock took the demon’s face as he dodged. Azrael’s strike met the throne he sat upon, cutting the headrest completely in half.   
  
" _The hell are you doing!?_ " Bael yelled, but the knight didn’t stop there.

Pressing the advantage of confusion, he aimed a flurry of strikes at Bael, who was narrowly defending them all, with only his bare hands. A sense of aggravation flowing through him, Azrael aimed a sharp slash across the demon’s face. However, knowing Bael would block it, the knight used his moment of weakness to send a surging kick to his chest.

Bael’s face contorted in pain as he was sent flying back. He landed through the altar, shattering the stone-built creation in half. He hissed with pain and yelled. " _Khashi! Guyug! Get in here!_ "  
  
Then, the doors burst open and two men came running out, their wings wide and threatening. Azrael was on them.

The knight couldn’t explain it, but his senses seemed enhanced at this moment. He wasn’t feeling fright or terror, even in the face of Voidsent. He was intent on one thing and one thing alone: killing them.

The raven-haired man barely had time to unsheathe his sword as Azrael’s blade slashed it out of his hands, and the knight delivered a strong punch to his face, knocking him to the ground. "He's too strong!" He heard the man grunt. As he turned around, Azrael felt a weight on his back and then found his arms bound: someone was holding him from behind. It was the other man, dark-haired yet strong. "Stop fighting!" The man yelled.

Already having a plan, Azrael backed up in quick strides, the man still on his back, until the two both crashed against a large glass-stained window. The window shattered, raining glass upon them both. The man on his back soon let go and fell to the ground, bent over in pain.

Adrenaline running through his veins, Azrael prepared for the other man to return, but turned to see something hurtling towards him in the other direction: Bael. The man was charging at him at blinding fast speed. Azrael barely had time to react before the man had him by the throat. As he reached to free himself from the demon’s iron grip, Bael spun with him, holding him as if he weighed nothing, and threw the knight across the cathedral. The knight soared through the air before finally landing in a group of pews, pieces of wood and furniture flying.

Pain seared in Azrael’s back as he tried to stand, and when he did, a flying punch hit him right in the face, knocking him back down. Khashi and Guyug surrounded him, both restraining his arms at his sides and holding him upright. Bael approached, an unamused look on his face. Azrael heaved breaths of anger just looking at the man. He noticed bruises on Bael’s face and a remnant of blood at the right side of his mouth.

Azrael gave a hollow laugh. “It hurts, doesn’t it? But whatever you’re feeling right now, it doesn’t even compare to the _pain I’m_ feeling right now.” Azrael tried surging forward, but the weight of the men kept him grounded. “ ** _You ruined my life._** ”

“No, _they_ ruined your life.” Bael gave him a hardened look.

“ _ **You turned me into a godsdamned monster!**_ ” Azrael yelled.

Bael cooled his temper, taking deep breaths. “I see in you what others refuse to. Bravery. Loyalty. Passion. Empathy. Selfishness. All traits that set you apart from the ‘heroes’ who are scared into acting only the socially acceptable way.

The knight started shaking his head. "No... you don't know." Bael continued.

“Betrayed by the thing we fought for. The things we love discarded and taken away. Lying to ourselves, thinking the greater good always wins. It doesn’t." He leaned closer. " _I know, Azrael.”_

“ **Don't even speak my name!** " Azrael jolted with anger. "You wouldn’t know the first thing about me!” Azrael started but Bael stopped him.

“I do. I saw,” Bael stopped, choosing his words wisely, "what happened to Mana." Azrael felt the anger leaving him, and in it's wake, disbelief.

“You… you can’t mean…” Azrael began, stumbling for words, but Bael nodded.

“You spent your life fighting for the greater good, but when there was something you wanted to protect, it was abandoned in the favor of more recognized than you. You were wronged. Over and over.” Bael walked closer.

"What would people who put their lives before anyone else's know about the drawbacks of fighting for the greater good?" Azrael spoke in a hollow voice.

He felt the grip on his left arm soften. "A lot really." The man on his right spoke. The raven-haired man, Khashi. Not understanding, Azrael looked up at him.

"I was cast out of my home because there was someone I wanted to protect." Khashi looked right at the man across from him. Guyug, he assumed. "Did good all my life, but the moment I wanted to do something I wanted to do, they threw us both aside."

"You can do just about everything right in your life. Doesn't mean people won't forget about you anyway." Guyug said, a solemn look on his face. "Makes you wonder, what was it all even for? Fighting for your comrades when they were really just turncoats hiding in plain sight."

"Then we found him," Khashi nodded to Bael. "The world came crashing down on us, but he came and held it up for us again. We were tired of being heroes. We just wanted to do what we wanted."

Bael looked at Azrael with determined eyes. “Heroes live for the sake of others, but because we reject that, we're called evil."

"If living for myself is the act of a villain, then so be it."

Azrael stared at him now, in wonder by his words. It reminded him of himself. Maybe they did understand after all. Bael continued.

"I chose you because I wanted to free you from that. I wanted to show you that you do matter. With us, we won’t forsake you, Azrael. So, why don't you join us?”

Azrael held his gaze for a moment longer, before he shook off the men and stood.  
  
"Even if you do speak the truth, you have no right to tell me what I should be doing right now." Azrael brushed past Bael towards the door. He’d cooled down but he’d had enough, he wanted to be alone. The demon spoke again.

“You can keep fighting your nature and go back to a society that will forget you at a moment's notice, or…” Bael disappeared into dust and reappeared right in front of Azrael, “You can join us. I never desert my subjects. If you stay loyal to me, you will never have regrets again.”

Azrael paused as he considered this.

Now that he had calmed down, he could think straight again. No matter which way he looked at it, fighting would get him nowhere. There was no way to turn back from a Voidsent. Not that life as a human was any more desirable. Azrael thought of what his life would be like if he left them. Hungry for aether, being endlessly hunted and hated, and worst of all... being alone. He shivered at the thought. The last thing he needed was to be alone in the world... again.

He looked at the three Voidsent once more. For a moment, they had almost seemed… like a family.

A family that Azrael could be a part of. A tinge of warmth poked at Azrael's heart.

Azrael sighed and walked forward, past Bael and towards the two Voidsent men. If this was his new life, it'd be better to start on the right foot. Initially, Khashi and Guyug readied for an attack but instead of one, Azrael held out his hand for the two.

“Sorry about earlier." The man started.

Khashi grunted, shaking his hand. "Don't worry about it, Azrael."

"Call me Az." The knight gave a smile. He felt another tinge of warmth in his heart.

It'd been a long time since he'd smiled like this.   
  



	3. Chapter 3

### azrael

“Az, come on. You look to die for.”

“Khashi, I look as if I am _going_ to die.”

The ex-knight stood now, cheeks flushed and embarrassed, as he stared at the skimpily dressed man in the mirror with his face. Gone were any traces of his beautifully sculpted First Class armor, and in it’s place, a contraption of leather straps and pieces of protection placed at haphazard places around his body. The “armor” revealed most of his musculature and abdominals and safeguarded the last places that he needed protecting in. It truly seemed like it was made with design alone in mind.

Azrael was having none of it.

“Tell me, how am I to go about walking in battle with my chest practically bared for everyone to see?”

Khashi gave him a look of lust.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

Azrael spluttered. “I feel I would do a better job of attracting the enemy, much less scaring them off.”

Guyug was off to the side, seemingly admiring everything but the armor. “You sure have my attention.”

“I’m changing back.” Azrael gave an exasperated sigh as he set off towards the nearest door but, he was stopped by Khashi’s grip on his wrist.

“Come on, Az.” A nickname he’d gave the ex-knight, saying his actual name was too much of a mouthful, “You’re a Voidsent now. Being tough to kill is apart of the deal. You can wear _anything_ you want when no one can kick your ass.”

Azrael shook him off. “I refuse to take chances. I will not be known as the Voidsent who did battle in his underwear.”

This time it was Khashi who sighed. “You complain too much, Az.” The man then moved towards Azrael’s face, causing him to back up. Khashi gave him an alluring smirk. “But I can put up with it, cause you’re so adorable.” He moved closer, until Azrael playfully pushed him away, trying to hide his embarrassment.

At the very least, Azrael was glad that they weren’t at each other’s throats like days ago. They had seemed to completely forget about what happened, even though Bael was not too happy about what happened to his throne.

Speak of the devil. He walked now, through the grand entry doors of the cathedral, and saw the sight of the two demons hovering over Azrael. The ex-knight suddenly felt self-aware and covered his chest.

Bael smirked, walking over. “Well well, fast friends are we?”

Guyug nodded. “Hopefully, more than just friends one day.”

Azrael scoffed, then looked over at Bael. The man was carrying something on his way over. It was a massive object, wrapped in a tarp and held by a single string. When Bael made it to where Azrael stood, he stopped, giving him a long look.

“Open it.” The man nodded.

Azrael reached out his hand towards the wrapped item but stopped, suddenly getting a feeling of dread. What if this was that non-awaited recompense for destroying his throne?

Bael rolled his eyes. “It’s not what you think. I’m actually in a _very_ giving mood right now.” Bael eyed the object in his ahnds. Azrael gave him one last look before he finally reached for the string and pulled it loose. What he saw amazed him.

Before him now was a greatsword, the blade massive from the hilt and curving in a beautiful edge to the end, lines and runes of gold decorating the length, runes from an unknown language lining the sides and the hilt: it truly looked as if the gods sculpted it.

“This… is for me?” Azrael asked, not quite believing it

Bael nodded. “All yours. You chose to join us in the end, so as my servant, I see to it that you are well armed.”

“T-thank you!” Azrael gripped the blade and held it with one arm now. It had looked as if it would be disproportionately heavy at first, but holding it, it was nearly weightless to him. He was about to make another comment, but when he looked at Bael, he was watching him with an invigorated interest.

“Impressive.” Bael said.

“What?” Azrael cocked his head, not understanding.

Bael folded his arms. “We never really talked much about your wings, did we?”

Azrael looked at them, stretching and contracting behind them as if they breathed and exhaled. However, unlike Khashi’s, Guyug’s, and Bael’s, they were a pure and silvery white. It had always been a subject of curiosity and wonder among the three.

Sometimes worry too.

Bael started. “The reason your wings are white is because the Light of Haedelyn resides within you.”

Azrael couldn’t believe it. All his life he’d believed that the Goddess would look any way but his, but to think that she had actually gifted him with power and he never even noticed.

“Well, it’s a gift gone to waste.” Azrael shrugged his shoulders.

Bael shook his head. “Not quite. You are a Voidsent, yet that part of your soul rejects the Light just as it rejects the Darkness. They constantly war within you, yet they both make you stronger by just existing. That means…”

Bael gently took the sword from Azrael’s hands and had to grip it with both hands to not drop it. “You are far stronger than most Voidsent.”

Azrael looked at himself now, from his arms to his hands, in wonder. Him? Stronger than most Voidsent? He was amazed. To think he was in helm of such massive power.

But, the way Bael was so impressed bothered Azrael in a way. He put the question on his mind to the demon now.

“Is there a catch? All this cannot possibly be without risk.”

For the first time ever, Bael had a look of disappointment and frustration on his face.

“I don’t know.” The words rang hollow in Azrael’s ears. “You are a question that has never been asked before, Azrael. Never has there been a servant of Haedelyn who was become a Voidsent. There are so many things we don’t know about you. You haven’t even ached for Aether in several days, and we don’t know when you will. But just as we don’t know that much about you, we’d like to keep it that way with others.”

“Would they dislike me?”

“The opposite. They would give you honeyed words with the intent to use you as a weapon. And such a fate wouldn’t be far from your previous life.”

Azrael looked down to his feet, worry on his face. He was a fool to think this would all be easily. Just when he thought he was finished with the Goddess and her false righteousness, here she was, getting in the way. He grit his teeth, frustrated.

But then an idea struck him. He gave a determined look to Bael now.

“Then let’s find out.”

Bael cocked his head this time, not understanding.

“If we don’t know what my limits are, we’ll find them.” He took his sword back, holding its’ weight with just one hand, “Let’s see how much power I really have.” He gave Bael a smirk, “That is, if you’re willing for a challenge?”

Bael returned his smirk with a demonic grin. “I’ll make you regret those words, little knight.”

***

### bael

The village they were in had once been a bustling location, a home to races of all kinds and a strong-armed force keeping them safe. But the war that broke out threatened to extinguish that peace. It was bigger than they had expected. To avoid further bloodshed, they had no choice but to completely evacuate the city. That had been ten years ago. The city now lay in ruins, buildings and homes destroyed long ago, now rotting and fading to dust.

As Bael sauntered on the field, he spotted Azrael, Khashi, and Guyug who stood now in the barren training field that once belonged to the forces that protected the village. Being inside the long and tall walls of the castle, they would be away from the view of passerby and free to do what they wanted. He could see Azrael training with his greatsword, aiming strikes and slashes at the air, and he could see Khashi and Guyug cheering him on and whistling.

They were enjoying his swordplay alright. Bael chuckled. He found himself getting used to the company of the new knight faster than he expected. But deep inside, he was disappointed with himself. He wished he had the answers for Azrael. Bael had always known every inch and lore of the dark magic he studied, but for him to fall short on a hybrid Voidsent. He sighed.

Can’t be on top of everything.

Once he got closer, he saw Azrael bantering with Khashi, a red blush on his face, and Khashi grinning and responding with smoothness to every rebuttal the knight had.

“Ready?” Bael called out, and Azrael snapped to his senses. Khashi and Guyug took a good distance from the two, should things go awry. Azrael took up a defensive stance and held his greatsword in the front of him. Bael then noticed he faltered and looked a little confused at the sight of Bael. “Something wrong?” He shrugged.

Azrael looked as if he had trouble saying what was on his mind at first, but then spoke. “Will you not face me with a weapon?”

At this, Bael gave a long and deep chuckle. “Little knight…” His form disappeared into a mist of black feathers mid-sentence.

“ _I am the weapon._ ”

Bael whispered from right behind him in an instant. Azrael gave a grunt, swinging his sword in a wild and unprepared arc, but he only cut at another illusion, as it shattered into feathers. Azrael looked around the field, wondering where the man would have gotten to. He truly could see no sign of him. Bael enjoyed this little trick of his. It was always fun surprising them.

If Bael could describe his teleportation, it was like the world going black, the space a formless rift, and you could see everyone on the field but you had no form until you made it to your destination.

Azrael had initially looked as if he was panicking but now, he did something that surprised Bael. The ex-knight put down his sword and knelt, closing his eyes. Bael laughed. Was he giving up so easily?

Bael made his way towards the downed knight. Once he was next to him, he raised his hand. “Say goodnight, little knight.” The demon smirked, now lunging at him.

And he was met with the near kiss of a blade.

Dodging to the side, Bael had narrowly avoided Azrael making a near instant thrust for his face. Bael’s focus broke, the black world around him shattering like glass, his location revealed. He could hear Khashi and Guyug echoing his surprise.

But Bael had no time to recover.

Similar to the first night they had Azrael, the ex-knight pressed his advantage. Slash after slash. Bael could only avoid the strikes by warding them off with the claws of his hand, but this time, it was different. They came at blinding speeds, almost faster than Bael could register them, and Azrael didn’t stop. He continued to press the demon with his strikes.

_It was almost as if he were trying to kill him._

“That’s enough.” Bael spoke out loud. Yet, it was almost as if Azrael didn’t hear him. The man continue to slash at him without stop.

Bael was having enough. Any more of this, and there would be no going back.

“ **Stop.** ”

The command left Bael’s mouth, echoing throughout the field as his eyes grew dark and his wings extended, bigger than before. A dark energy now radiated from Bael. Azrael shook before the sudden energy he was being exposed to, before he crumpled to his knees, kneeling before Bael. The demon did his best to quell his anger as he leaned down and grabbed Azrael by the leather strap around his chest.

“What the hell is the matter with yo--?!” Bael stopped mid-sentence once he saw it.

Bael felt his heart catch.

In Azrael’s eyes, there was a darkness. Pitch black and never ending. It was like an eclipse that had completely covered his once red and glowing eyes. The actions a moment ago were not of Azrael’s, but something else.

_Someone else._

“Khashi! Guyug! We’re leaving. _Now_.” He punctuated the last word, and the two gathered themselves to hurry over to his side.

“Carry Azrael, we’re heading back. Take him to his room and don’t take your eyes off him for a second.” Bael sounded panicked, his eyes darted all around him.

Guyug lifted Azrael under his arms, Khashi getting the other side. “But Bael! What’s wrong with Az?”

Bael was walking off, but he stopped, letting out a heavy breath. He then turned to Guyug and Khashi, utmost seriousness in his eyes.

“It’s Naz’zar. He’s found us.”

***

### azrael

Azrael awoke on a hard and cold stone floor. He was having an awful headache. Opening his eyes and trying to overcome his blurred vision, he found he could see nothing. Nothing but darkness. His armor clanked as he tried to stand on his feet. Once he was sure he’d gotten the last bit of sleepiness out of his eyes, he gave his surroundings a good look once more.

Nothing.

It was that dark here.

Azrael started panicking. Had he gone blind? He held his hands in front of him, trying to feel for a wall or… something to hold on to.

“Guys!? Where—” Azrael was cut off by a sudden low-pitched voice that echoed from afar.

“Awake, are you?”

Azrael didn’t have his sword, but only his two fists. He would fight if he needed to, disadvantaged as he was.

“Very. Who am I speaking with?” Azrael stood his ground.

“Even when you are in my boundless rift, you remain bold. You’re the real deal alright.” The voice was almost disembodied, as if it was far as can be, but just as close as right behind him. Chills ran down the ex-knight’s spine.

“Who are you!?” He yelled, his voice hoarse.

His response was a chuckle. “A far better lord than Bael could be, that’s for sure.”

Azrael felt strangely defensive. “And just what would you know about him?”

The voice this time came as if it was right behind him. “I know that he knows nothing about you at all.”

Azrael turned around, feeling fear strike his heart. Finally, the darkness over his eyes began to dissipate as it revealed a tall demon right in front of him. Horns outstretched from his head, his skin a dark shade of blue, muscled and strong, taller than Azrael, and wings of a brilliant dark azure.

Azrael froze.

“But I do.”

“I’ll ask again.” The ex-knight took a daring step forward. “Who. Are. You.” Fear permeated his voice. If this was the man that would take his life, then he refused to go down a coward.

His chest heaved with laughter as Azrael continued to show bravery in the face of his captor.

“Such disrespect. You’re different than the ones that beg for their lives. I like it.” The demon faced him now.

“Naz’zar.”

Azrael had never known the name before. Maybe that was for the better.

“So, what is it that you want?” Azrael fully expected the demon to choke him or punch him across the face for his impudence, but he seemed intent on just letting him talk.

“Now why would I hurt you? You’re very important in our world. Can’t go harming you now.”

Azrael took a step back, speechless. Had Naz’zar, read his _mind_?

“Yeah, I did.” He gave him a smirk. “I can do _much_ more too.”

A feeling like cold water down his back froze Azrael.

“But, I’m here to make a deal with you.” Naz’zar took a step closer to the ex-knight. “Why don’t you be mine?”

Azrael snorted. “You are hardly my type.”

Naz’zar wiggled his eyebrow. “You can become mine in body too, but you can also become mine in soul. Swear loyalty to me, and I’ll answer anything you want to know.”

Azrael stood firm. “I’ve already sworn my oaths. I have no intention of breaking them.”

Naz’zar raised an eyebrow. “I see. So then is Bael reliable when it comes to your troubles?”

Azrael was nearly lost for words, but he came up with a good deflection. “It matters not. I don’t betray my oaths. Whoever they may be to.”

“Ah,” Naz’zar scratched his chin, “So you becoming a Voidsent was consented by the humans?”

Azrael’s eyes went wide. What didn’t this man know?

“I need not explain myself to you.” Azrael turned around, wanting to leave, but there was no exit. There was only Naz’zar, and darkness.

“You’re right. You don’t have to do anything. You can join me now, while I’m giving you the choice.”

Azrael turned around. “While I have the choice?”

Naz’zar nodded. “A specialty like you shouldn’t go to waste. That is why, if you want to go. I won’t stop you. But…” He let the words trail off for a moment. “Once you go, I’ll have to come take you next time.”

Azrael’s sudden bravado seemed to dissipate as Naz’zar spoke the words. They weren’t even filled with fury, just an eerie calmness that shook Azrael to his core. He continued talking.

“Whatever you choose doesn’t matter to me. This way only makes it more fun.” Naz’zar shrugged, a grin on his face. He noticed how Azrael was frozen in place. He gave a low grunt.

“But it doesn’t seem like you’re willing to come with me tonight. It’s alright. This won’t be the last time you see me. But if you change your mind, you know how to find me.”

Naz’zar closed the distance between the two, and kissed Azrael on the forehead.

“Good night, Az.”

***

Azrael shot upright out of his sleep, thankfully, this time in his bed. He let out a huge sigh of relief, his pounding heart calming and his body covered in sweat. He was shirtless and, in his room again, in his worn and torn makeshift bed, with a candlelight on a nearby table lighting the room.

But something was wrong.

Azrael grasped at his throat, trying to speak but no words would come out. He initially thought he was parched for water, but being parched is never as painful. He felt pangs in his throat as he staggered out of the bed. He tried to call for Bael, Khashi, or Guyug but he could make no sound.

Panicking, he stumbled out of his room, down the hallway, and into the grand cathedral. There was not a single person in sight. He could stand and wait for someone no longer. Whatever the thirst was, it was painful and the ache to get the quench was unbearable. Shouldering his way out of the cathedral, he wandered into the night, staggering and limping as he searched for something or someone to help him.

Wandering further and further away from the cathedral and deep into the city, it finally hit him what was the cause of his painful thirst.

Aether.

Throughout the days he’d spent with them, Bael had constantly tried to get Azrael to feed, but the ex-knight had refused. He didn’t ache for the Aether as easily as the others had. He had self-sufficiency about him, but thinking on it now, he was a fool to think that he was a Voidsent that could go without it.

After a while, the symptoms got worse, to the point where they were impairing his senses. He felt as if he would black out soon. He didn’t even know which way was the right way anymore. He fell to his knees, and on his stomach, clawing at the ground, but finding no solace.

Was this how he would die? A fool who rejected his own nature?

He wished they were here at least. He didn’t want to be alone.

Before his vision faded however, he could clear as day see two pairs of shoes approaching him. It also felt as if that the Aether was closer now because of this person. Joy in his heart, he reached toward the person’s shoes.

“ _H…hel…p… me…_ ” He tried, but the words came out softer than a whisper. He closed his eyes, unconsciousness taking over.

***

Azrael opened his eyes for seemingly the third time today. He was looking straight at the wood tile ceiling of a room. Most noticeably, he felt better than he did earlier. The thirst was gone completely, and he felt no pain whatsoever, besides the headache. He almost wondered if it was just some crazy dream. He stretched in the bed and began to move.

“Don’t move.” A blunt voice from the corner of the room stopped him. Azrael looked over to see a silver-haired man at a desk full of books, writing down notes with an almost inspired vigor. The ex-knight obediently laid back in bed, beside himself. Was the man a doctor?

The silver-haired man then stood up, a small stick in his hand, and Azrael was able to get a better look at him. His skin was a dark shade of purple, comparable to a sky where the sun has set, and white freckles line his face, like a galaxy of stars. He was wearing a crimson strapped vest with vials and weapons attached to his chest, and wore light beige pants with papers and notes overfilling his pockets.

The man sat on the edge of Azrael’s bed and leaned in. “Say ‘ _aaah’_.”

Azrael was confused. “Who are you?”

His ‘doctor’ would not have it. “Say _‘AAAH_ ’.” He tried again with a more annoyed tone.

Azrael opened his mouth, feeling no need to push the matter further. The man held the stick against his tongue, carefully examining his mouth.

“Small amount of aether provided. Redness has cleared, pangs have stopped, inflammation has calmed, pain is minimized.” The man spoke aloud as he took a parchment out of his pocket and wrote the facts he just stated. After jotting down the last one, he spoke hesitantly.

“Fenrir Venral. Scholar of Aether studies.”

Azrael nodded. “I am…”

Fenrir cut him off, “A Voidsent, I am aware.” He waved a hand at the bedridden knight.

A very blunt scholar. “You seem none too happy about it.”

Fenrir almost gave a laugh. “Hardly.” The man looked at Azrael with intimidating eyes. “I am among the few who work hard to keep the Aether ley lines flowing and at peace, but it’s your kind who tamper and dismantle my life’s work.” He continued.

“You Voidsent are an abomination to the Aetherflow, and in truth, I should be getting rid of you instead of nursing you.”

At least he was honest. Azrael found his voice again.

“So why don’t you then?”

Fenrir sighed aloud. “Because, it appears that there is still hope for you.”

Azrael was confused. “What do you mean?”

The scholar stood up. “The Light of Haedelyn resides within you, and it wages a war inside your body to fight away the Darkness of the Voidsent curse. That means, with the correct medication, we could get you on your way to a full recovery. I would be more than willing to help.”

Azrael’s eyes widened. There was a way to reverse the transformation? It couldn’t be.

“It has happened before,” Fenrir started, “Stupid people who thought it would be fun to become an abomination came back home crying to change back to a human. I assume you are no less.”

Azrael felt anger rising in his chest. He thought of the commander that refused to send forces to aid Mana Village, he thought of the people that lived there, he thought of Ethera…

“What would you know?” His words were filled with irritation.

“A lot, actually.” Fenrir continued. “Maybe you did it to impress some man or woman? Tangoing with the Voidsent and live to tell the tale, am I right?” Fenrir got closer. “You really should have stuck to where you belonged, _instead of trying to go somewhere you don’t._ ”

Azrael stood up out of his bed, furious. “You don’t know a _godsdamned thing_ about me! So, don’t act as if you do!” He yelled.

Fenrir gave an incredulous look. “This a way to speak to someone who saved your life? You should be thanking me, but instead you’re raising your voice?”

The ex-knight couldn’t stop now. “This a way to speak to someone who used to be a human just like you? No matter what the hell I am now, I was once a human. We all were. For you to treat me in such a way by going off what the others have done is unacceptable!”

Fenrir gave him an unreadable look. “Your existence is dependent on Aether. So much that you would kill for it. If you don’t have it, you’ll die. You’ll need to keep doing monstrous things in order to survive. Why can’t you understand that this is your life now?”

Azrael was out of words. The reality of the situation hadn’t hit him this hard before. He was so focused on attaining power and mastering his abilities as a Voidsent, that he didn’t even take into account that what he would have to do to continue living that life.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way.” Fenrir said, taking a calm breath, “We can fix all of this, and you’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

“Just… trust me.” He held out his hand to Azrael.

Azrael was faced with a decision. What if all of this, was a mistake? Could it really be this easy to go back to my old life like nothing ever happened?

But what would that prove? That they were right, and that he wasn’t cut out for this? He would go back to them with his tail in his legs after finally having the courage to stand against their false righteousness?

“ _No_.” He spoke aloud, the word echoing around the room.

He wouldn’t. He’d rather die than do that.

“I turned my back on the greater good because it only saved the few, not the many. What is the point of serving a false righteousness?”

Fenrir nodded. “Then let me ask you, what do you hope to attain by serving something that opposes righteousness? Is going around terrorizing people and killing for Aether going to help? Even if we _do_ have false righteousness, it’s as good as we’re getting. It is impossible to save everyone, and you know that. Or..."  
  
"Do you hope to change the way the Voidsent work?" Fenrir questioned him.

"It's not impossible." Azrael stared at him with determined eyes.

Fenrir gave him a look of abject horror, not believing what he was hearing. "You are _completely delusional_."

Azrael would hear no more. “I’ve told you my answer. I will not abandon my path.”

Fenrir sighed. “You know what this means I have to do, right?”

Azrael took a daring step forward. “ _You do what you have to do._ ”

Fenrir took the dagger attached to his pants and held the blade, his eyes steeled on the ex-knight.

“So be it. Better for you to die, than continue your deranged ideals any further.”

Fenrir lunged at him.

***


	4. Finale

### bael

“ _Gone!? What do you mean ‘he’s gone’?!_ ” Bael bellowed at the two demonic angels before him. Khashi and Guyug were without words to say to their leader. The two looked to the ground now, worried but not able to face Bael’s enraged glare.

Bael sighed, becoming antsy. “How did he leave? Were you attacked?”

Now, Khashi looked away, his face riddled with guilt. Bael continued, “I suppose not then. So, what was it that kept your attention?” The demon then looked at Guyug and noticed a similar look on his face. Bael shook his head, now knowing exactly what had happened.

The two must have assumed Azrael would not wake and decided to sneak away from guard duty to steal a moment for themselves. Bael had wondered why Guyug had looked so sweaty and disheveled. They could have been at each other for hours.

Bael put a hand to his face, exasperated.

There was only one culprit.

Naz’zar.

The thought of the demon infuriated Bael. That he would still be in his life, constantly in his affairs, interfering with what wasn’t his.

Bael would have no more.

“I’ll be back.” Bael spoke, turning on his heel. Khashi and Guyug’s heads both turned up.

“Where are you going?” Guyug asked.

Bael gave him a determined look. “To bring Azrael back and end this. Naz’zar will have us by the strings no longer.”

Guyug opened his mouth to object but Khashi had already marched forward and held him by the arm. “Don’t be crazy. We’ll go with you.”

“No.” Bael spoke, “You two stay here and hold down the fort. It’s all we got.” He gave Khashi a confident look. “It’s okay, he won’t kill me. I know that.”

That got Khashi’s attention. “Who is Naz’zar exactly?” Bael’s face twitched as he tried to hide his surprise. Bael had made sure to scarce mention the name around them, despite them being his men, but eventually even they would become curious. “I doubt he’s just trying to stake his claim on our territory.” Khashi leaned in.

“You two had something in the past, didn’t you?”

Bael shook free of his grip. The great dark wings on his back awoke and expanded as if they were stretching, ready for takeoff. They moved gently in the wind as Bael became ready to take flight.

“You have your orders.” That was all Bael said, as with the speed of a bullet, his form shot into the darkness of the sky.

Khashi tightened his fists. He’d hated being in positions where he could do nothing but wait and hope for good news. He was worried, for Azrael and Bael both. He’d never say it, but he’d grown close to his leader in the years he’d served. He always felt at home when they were together, and adrift when they were not.

Khashi then felt Guyug at his side, a hand on his shoulder. “No use getting lost in regrets. It’ll only bring us down more. All we can do, is protect what we have, so when Az and Bael come back, they’ll have their home waiting for them.”

Khashi nodded, giving him a warm smile. Guyug had always known how to cheer his man up. He loved that about him. As Khashi leaned in for a kiss, a noise forced his eyes to dart to the darkness on the road before them.

Unsheathing the sword from his back, he and Guyug both backed against the doors to the cathedral, gathering their bearings. 

Khashi had definitely heard it. The unmistakable sound of a clang against concrete. Someone was near.

Khashi remained strong. Two demonic angels. They could certainly take down one person.

If only they could see who it was.

The silence was not helping either. It was so thick that even the slight shuffling of their clothes as the two moved around nearly sent Khashi swinging.

After a few more seconds, Khashi relaxed his guard a little. They had taken shelter in a derelict city. Maybe something had fallen. He gave a sigh, and then looked up to the sky. Shining stars all around them. Had this been another night, Khashi would have thought they were beautiful.

Then, he saw it. Khashi froze.

Something was falling, and _heading right for him_.

With a loud grunt, Khashi jumped to the side. And when he did, he caught the sight of a bloodied glaive sailing past him, a near miss. And sitting atop it, effortlessly…

A silver-haired woman.

The glaive landed in the wall of the cathedral, shattering one of the stained glass mirrors. Khashi had no time to recover. The woman was on him. She did flips as she gracefully landed from the wall and to the ground, wrenching her glaive out in the process and spun as if to dance, her glaive lashing out at Khashi in smooth and deadly arcs. Khashi was able to parry each one of them with resounding clangs but was surprised at the sheer strength behind them.

Khashi was a Voidsent. There is no way a human should be able to take one on and live.

“ _Khashi_!” Guyug ran forward, his blade aimed at her head. As if already expecting it, the woman took two quick steps back, never once stopping her dance of swords. Guyug’s blade met her’s, and instead of striking her, it slid along her own blade, sending the blade into another direction…

Right at Khashi.

Khashi saw it coming and dodged it but not quick enough. It grazed his shoulder.

He was getting angry now. Khashi stepped forward and aimed a thrust at her chest.

But then she was gone.

The flutter of her skirt let them both know that she had done a front flip right above them. Khashi was able to glimpse right into her emerald eyes. Her face was… beautiful, but expressionless. Like a mindless killer.

Landing on her feet with a clack of heels, Guyug and Khashi both took steps back from her now, still holding fast in their defensive stances.

“ _Who are you and what the hell do you want?!_ ” Khashi hollered.

The woman did not move from where she stood. She was unfazed by his words. Ever did that dead gaze of hers stay on them both. Khashi gripped his sword tightly.

He just wished she would say something.

The way she regarded them coldly, spoke no words, had no human behaviorism whatsoever. It was… all too eerie.

She then knelt, holding her glaive close. She was planning another attack.

The two both tensed. Khashi nodded to his lover. No matter what, they would keep her from entering the cathedral. If they were her targets, she would have already killed them.

But no.

Even without words, he could tell what she wanted.

She wanted Azrael. Was she another person like Naz'zar?

Whatever the case, she wouldn’t get to him. Never. Khashi would make sure of that.

### azrael

Azrael almost realized it too late, as he punched the knife from Fenrir’s hands. The scholar staggered from the force as the knife fell to the ground in a clatter, but Azrael’s knees felt as if they wanted to give out, so he had to lean on the bed frame for support. Azrael turned to the weapon, his eyes in complete shock. He didn’t even need to have seen it, his very _body_ reacted to it.

“What _was_ _that_?” Azrael sputtered, breathless.

Fenrir gave a smirk, pulling out another knife from his pocket. “Did you really think I’d come all the way here just to sight see?” This time, Azrael had a better look at it. It had looked as if the knife was dipped in black paint. Whatever it was, it was something that Azrael almost could not even _look_ at without feeling dizzy.

“This,” Fenrir wagged the new knife at Azrael, “is a knife, dipped in a matter that Voidsent are supposedly quite sensitive to. It’s why I’m here. To see if that’s true… and seeing at how you’re reacting. Seems my hypothesis was just right.

Fenrir went on. “With this, we finally have a way of putting you abominations where you belong.”

Azrael looked at the man before him now with disbelief. Once a moment ago, he saw a stiff yet studious scholar, now before him, stood a manifestation of what he feared. What he would have to deal with in his new life.

People who would smile in his face and be the knife in their back.

“Once I’m done with you, I’ll be sure to give your little friends a taste of this too. We’ll put an end to this today. It’s all for the greater good.”

There it was again.

That… anger in his chest. It had rose when he argued with the man earlier. Now, in the place of fear, it surged.

Azrael stood, fighting off the dizziness. “Do you think… I’m just going to stand here, and let you do that?” His voice was deep and hollow, full of enmity and rage.

Fenrir gave him a smug look. “You can’t even stand on your own two feet. Not as a human, and certainly not as a Voidsent. What can you possibly do to stop me?”

A very good question.

Azrael thought of Bael in that moment. How he wielded his strength, his ability to teleport and telecommunicate, and possibly even more tricks that Azrael didn’t know about. What about him? Azrael was stronger than most demonic angels and probably had abilities he hadn’t yet discovered.

Yes, he could use his strength to incapacitate Fenrir, but what good would making even more of an enemy out of him do? Azrael had just said he would be the change in the tide. He refused to go back on his word, so at the very least, he wouldn’t hurt Fenrir. If only there was a way to convince him.

Surely, there was something only he could do. As he grasped for an idea, he could only think of one solution.

Naz’zar.

If Fenrir would not be convinced by Azrael, then he would let Naz’zar convince him.

 _If you change your mind, you know how to find me._ Those were the demon’s last words to Azrael. Just what had he meant by that? Closing his eyes, he solely thought of Naz’zar, trying to figure out an answer.

“That’s right. Just stay right there, and this will all be over.” Fenrir inched closer with the knife, and then stopped.

“What the--!?” Fenrir jumped backwards, his back against the furthest wall. When Azrael opened his eyes, he looked to his right and saw a wide, dark and wispy object in the middle of the room. Billows of black smoke radiated from the phenomenon, and the darkness inside seemed to go on forever. Had Azrael done this?

He scrambled to his feet and stared at the figure. Looking at it now, it could almost be seen as a door. Then, it finally hit Azrael.

This was a portal. And it could take them straight to Naz’zar.

There was no time to waste. Who knew how long this thing would last?

Taking advantage of the startled Fenrir, he trapped him with both arms, holding him in an iron grip. When the man started fighting, Azrael charged into the portal, encasing them both in darkness. Fright traveled down his spine when he realized he was now falling, but he kept calm and held onto Fenrir as he fell.

He just had to have faith.

They were going to Naz’zar, and Azrael was going to finally give him his answer.

### bael

“Well, look who it is.” Naz’zar’s deep voice resounded around the room as his surroundings faded into view around Bael. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in a grand throne room, alight with torches that hung on the faded yet sturdy walls. Warriors in exquisite yet revealing armor stood against the walls. His protectors, he’d assumed. Naz’zar’s boundary rift had always been troublesome to get to in one piece. Bael was starting to understand why the man liked being here so much.

Speak of the devil, sitting on the throne of course was the last man Bael had wanted to see. Below him, was one of his men, right in between his legs, his head moving back and forth and familiar sounds coming from him. Was this how Naz’zar bided his time?

Naz’zar then gave the warrior between his knees a dark glare, and the man stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and bowing to his leader. Bael could see from the door that it was a blue-haired Miqo'te. The warrior marched off to the side and stood with the others, in an orderly fashion.

Naz’zar leaned forward in his throne, giving Bael an easy smile. “To think you’d use the portal I gave you. Does this mean you’re willing to come back to me?”

Bael was far from the mood. “Save it. Just tell me where Azrael is, and I’ll let you and your little buddy get back to your down time.”

Naz’zar smirked, amused. “Is that jealousy I hear?”

Bael took a few steps forward. “I won’t ask again.”

Naz’zar sighed, disappointed. “You were never one for games. Too serious.” He reclined back in his throne, “Either way, I have no idea where Azrael is.”

Bael inhaled sharply. “You _lie_!” He had raised his voice without meaning to. Some of the warriors nearby tensed but stayed stoic.

“You take me for a fool? You think I didn’t know that it was you that took his mind!?”

Naz’zar smiled, a sense of pride welling up. “I only wanted to talk with this new demon you’ve got under your wing. You seem to like him a lot.”

“Stay away from him.” Bael stepped forward, his eyes growing dark, and his wings expanding with fury.

“And if I don’t?” Naz’zar winked.

Bael had then done something he rarely did: he removed his overcoat. The men around him could not help but look. Muscles and abdominals chiseled as a god’s. They moved with each of his heated breaths.

“I see now. Leaving you wasn’t enough. The only way to get you out of my life, is with my own two hands.” Bael tightened his fists.

Bael was serious.

Naz’zar was nodding, taking in the sight of him. He finally sat out of his throne, and walked down the steps. As he did, the armor on his chest shimmered until it faded into grey sparkles, revealing his charcoal dark chest and muscles. In his right hand, appeared a massive greatsword, intricately designs of gold and silver on the blade and an exotic almost warped shape on the hilt. He walked closer to Bael.

“Sure you want this?” Naz’zar started, “We can settle this in a more… private location, you know.” He gave Bael a lusty look.

Bael stood stoic, his eyes on Naz’zar, waiting on him to make a move.

“Once Azrael gives me his answer on where he wants to serve me or not, you can give me your answer too, whether you want to come back to me or—” Bael surged forward without thinking and punched the man across the face, sending him staggering.

“How’s _that_ for an answer?” Bael regarded the man, using his sword so stand on his feet.

The men around him moved, their glares on Bael, but their leader waved a hand. Naz’zar gave a hollow laugh and started nodding. “It seems you’ve forgotten who I am, Bael.” His voice got deeper, if such a feat was even possible. Bael tensed.

In a flash, Naz’zar gripped his greatsword with both hand and slashed in a deadly arc that would have caught Bael’s head, had he not dodged. The mere force of the slash sent the torches in the back of the room exploding into billows of fire and a massive scratch into the concrete walls.

He did not stop there. Wielding the greatsword as if it were nothing, Naz’zar pursued him with strike after strike and Bael parrying each with his bare hands. Naz’zar turned around to deliver another spinning arc, but Bael’s form then disappeared into a fog of darkness. As Naz’zar’s strike found no target, Bael reappeared again at his side, going for another attack, but he met the force of Naz’zar’s sword hilt hit him across the face. 

Staggering back, he looked up to see Naz’zar smirking, holding his sword above his head, ready for a killing strike. Bael disappeared again as Naz’zar swung down upon his form and missed. When Bael reappeared again, Bael’s wings had expanded and fluttered as he soared around the grand throne room. He was muttering incantations under his breath.

Several black orbs appeared all around them. He pointed a finger at Naz’zar and they shot forward right at his pursuing form. They found their target and caused explosions of darkness around the room. Pieces of wood and concrete flew as the once grand room was being desecrated in their fight.

Jumping out of the billows of dark smoke was Naz’zar, still chasing Bael. As Bael continued firing bullets of dark matter at Naz’zar, the demon merely parried them with his blade. He finally took flight, his massively large wings allowing him to approach Bael faster.

Bael grit his teeth and his form disappeared into again, the sailing blade nearly missing him. As he prepared to dive out of harm’s way, something that never happened before made Bael’s eyes widen in terror.

Naz’zar had him by the throat _while he was teleporting._ He should have been completely invisible. The only way for that to happen is for the person to see him, so this couldn’t be possibly.

“I always thought it was so cute how you thought this trick of yours was just so impenetrable,” Naz’zar spoke, and brought Bael closer, “But this whole time, I was just _letting_ you run away from me.”

Naz’zar used his other hand to ready an unavoidable strike. Bael struggled but he could not free himself from the man's grip on his neck. Naz’zar smirked. “Yield, and I’ll let you go.”

Bael inhaled deeply and leaned forward, shaking with rage.

“ **I’d rather die.** ”

Naz’zar then looked down to see a glowing purple sphere in Bael’s right hands. For the first time, Bael had seen Naz’zar’s face shift with shock, but there was no time to react.

In a flash of light and deafening explosion, Bael was sent from Naz’zar’s grip, and crashing to the ground. Pain seared through his entire body, as he struggled to stand. He would heal soon, but if Naz’zar were to catch him like this…

Naz’zar then landed on the ground a distance from him. His chest huffed with anger. Scars, wounds, and blood lined his once perfect body. His grip on his sword shook as he aimed the weapon at Bael’s downed form.

“Even if I did take Azrael, you don’t deserve to have him. You use tricks to get away, you pretend to be strong, and no matter how much time passes, you cannot defeat me.”

Bael spat blood onto the floor. “And what about you?” His voice was hoarse. “You deserve to have him? He’d live his life as a slave to your demands, not too different from the men in this room. You’d use him like a tool until he breaks.” Bael slowly stood, staggering as he did.

“I’ll _never_ let you have him, Naz’zar.”

Naz’zar shook his head. “Shame. There was a part of me that hoped that you would come around and see reason, but it seems that you and me, are just destined to disagree.” He raised the sword, preparing the final strike.

“Consider this a kindness, for the years we spent together.”

Bael gave a laugh. “I’d rather forget it really.”

Naz’zar gave one last smirk, his biceps flexing as he prepared to swing, but then he stopped.

He looked up and saw a wall of darkness above them.

“What the hell…” Naz’zar took on a look of disbelief.

Two forms then fell from the rift of darkness and crashed to the ground.

Bael’s eyes widened. “ _Azrael_?!”

It took Azrael a moment to gather his bearings and when he looked around, he saw both demonic angels, bloodied and battered. “Bael!? _What happened to you_?” The other form next to him, a silver-haired man of purple skin and white freckles, shook his head as he staggered to his feet.

“Where is… this?” He then noticed the Voidsent before him and was understandably startled, but then he saw Naz’zar and froze.

“Naz’zar!” Fear permeated the man’s voice as he held the knife before him defensively.

Azrael backed away from Naz’zar as well, standing in front of Bael.

“You know him, Fenrir?” Azrael asked.

Fenrir nodded. “Quite possibly the biggest and most elusive threat the Voidsent has presented. A man of limitless power. He’s as dangerous as the Ascians.”

Naz’zar gave a mock bow. “Such a flatterer. You’ve done your homework, scholar.” Now, he looked at Azrael, and his expression was one of absolute engrossment.

“You surprise me each time I see you. To think you could make a portal to my boundless rift on your own.”

Azrael then registered what he’d just done. “I… did that?” He looked at the portal above them as it faded into shiny particles.

Naz’zar nodded. “Yes, you did. And there is so much more that you can do. We can find out it all together, Az.” He gave an easy-going smile. “So have you come to give me your answer?”

Azrael stood firm, looking at Naz’zar with determined eyes. “I have.”

Bael gave a pained groan. “Azrael! Don’t! You… don’t know what kind of monster he really is!”

Naz’zar gave a smirk. “And he would know that, wouldn’t he?”

Bael’s glare to the man only became even more fierce. Azrael looked back at his demonic leader, with an unreadable look. The worry in Bael’s heart only grew. Azrael then turned back to Naz’zar.

Azrael took a step forward, faced Naz’zar, and spoke.

“The reason I gave up my humanity is because it was simply not worth having it. People in this world are taught from birth of how good always prevails and evil will always fail. In doing so, they put faith in forces beyond their control, always believing that their lives would be safe as long as they were around. A figure that will always save the world and protect their people, that is what the Warrior of Light is.

“But to live like that, is no different from living as a sheep. By relinquishing the ability to protect their future to someone else, they become tools to that belief. They live their lives around it and only because of it. I would know, because I was once like that too.

Azrael took a step forward. “But no longer.”

Naz’zar’s look of interest never faded. Bael gave a hesitant look to Azrael.

“I am no fool, Naz’zar. You are only interested in my power and what I have to offer. To choose you would be to choose the life I originally led. And, I won’t do that.”

Azrael looked at Bael now and gave him a warm smile.

"Once, you saw a nameless tool, fighting for a false cause, but before you now, is a man who's not afraid to live for himself anymore. What makes me strong isn't power, but my will. So, I'll never forget who I am ever again." He continued.

"Even if I know nothing about my power, even if I may be choosing wrong, I will never abandon my oaths to you, Bael.”

It had been the first time Azrael had seen Bael give him a such a smile. It was different from his regular smirk: Azrael could tell, that he was happy.

Azrael then turned back to Naz’zar. “The kind of future I was to take with my own hands and live in, is one where someone like you doesn’t belong.”

Naz’zar gave him a curious look. “What are you saying?”

Azrael looked down, and in his right hand, the greatsword that Bael had given him appeared, and he held on to it with an iron grip. “I’m saying that if you continue to try to take my future away from me.” He thought of Bael, bloody, bruised and battered, and pointed the sword right at Naz’zar’s face.

“ **I’ll take you down. No matter what.** ”

Naz’zar was expressionless for a moment. The room was filled with complete silence. Then, he started laughing. He held his head as his deep laughter rumbled the room. When he finished, he looked at Azrael with such a look of elation. It was chilling.

“I like you, Azrael.” Naz’zar nodded. “Even when you’re not a knight anymore, you still act like one. If it is your dream to see the world of the Voidsent changed to a path you think is right, then, far be it from me to stop you.”

Naz’zar then gave him a dark expression. “But know, that when your ideals fail you and your reality becomes a dream, know that I will be there,” he stepped forward, giving Azrael a dark look, “to watch the Light finally fade from your eyes.”

With that, Naz’zar turned on his heel and walked back to his throne. Once he sat upon it, he regarded them. “You may leave.” He spoke, “I have nothing to say to you further.” He spoke an incantation, and a portal appeared right behind Azrael, Bael, and Fenrir.

Azrael sheathed his sword on his back and went to Bael’s side. The ex-knight gave a look to Fenrir. “I’ve made my choice. What have you decided, Fenrir?”

The man looked as frustrated as can be. Forced to pick between a lesser and a greater evil. Azrael would understand if the man remained unchanged in his beliefs. What he answered with surprised Azrael.

“You’re something else, Azrael. To stand in the face of the strongest Voidsent and tell him you’ll take him down.” Fenrir nodded, “I don’t believe in your ideals for a second, but… I’d rather side with you than let him go unchecked.”

Azrael scoffed. “To think you’d have no more energy to argue.”

Fenrir shook his head. “Let’s go, before I change my mind.” Fenrir then walked into the portal, his form disappearing.

Azrael then felt Bael’s arm around his shoulder, as they both walked into the portal.

“Thanks, Az.”

It had been the first time Bael had called him by his nickname. 

Despite everything, Azrael was optimistic. Sure, they would have much to suffer through from here on out as they tried to live out this new life.

But this time, Azrael wouldn't let others fight for him: he would fight for his own future, himself.

### epilogue

It had been a grueling battle of blades. The woman was now beginning to tire, as were Khashi and Guyug. Yet, her glaive was ever at her side, ready to strike. They had caused a good amount of damage to the town’s long-lost infrastructure, but the woman had not been able to enter the cathedral once.

“Where the hell are they?” Khashi heaved. “Don’t think I can hold out for much longer.”

“Me too.” Guyug breathed. “Is she even a human?”

The woman then jumped into the air again. The two’s eyes darted throughout the night sky as they searched for her. Khashi cursed that she was using the night to her advantage.

Then, he caught her into view.

Her glaive was sailing right at him once more, but Khashi hadn’t the energy to move.

“ _Khashi!”_ Guyug hollered, running to him, but it was too late.

Before the glaive hit him, there was a loud clang as the glaive and the woman were both thrown backwards. The woman managed to land on her two feet, her glaive landing in the ground beside her. For the first time, she actually showed expression, gritting her teeth as he took in her new opponent.

It had been Azrael. He’d dashed out of nowhere and caught the woman’s strike just in time.

“Az!” The two exclaimed, relief filling their hearts.

Azrael took to another defensive stance as he pointed it at the woman. “I’ll be your opponent. Surrender or this won’t end well for y—”

Azrael froze, his eyes widening in shock as he looked at the woman once more.

He took a step forward, nearly dropping his weapon, not believing his eyes, but there it was, right there in front of him.

The woman seemed to realize it too. She wore an equally shocked expression, but then gave him a relieved smile.

“Sir Azrael, I’m so happy to see you again.” She finally spoke.

Azrael finally spoke her name.

“Ethera.”

to be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this finale! Looking back, I still remember when I had planned this story to be standalone oneshot, but to think the story would grow to be this big with so many characters! I really am happy to have written this as my very first crossover OC project! However, with another project I'm excited to write on the horizon, this will have to be the finale. Thank you so much to everyone who gave kudos, commented, or even clicked on my story! Your support means so much! Thanks again!
> 
> Follow me on Twitter at @azwritesfantasy for more updates on my next project!
> 
> \- Az


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